A/N: Two updates in the same week?! Minor warning: there's also some mature content in this one, too, but it's vague (in my opinion) and you can easily skip through it by scrolling for the next page break.
As always, thanks to everyone who follows this - especially those of you who take the time to review. As simple as it is, it's wonderful to know that people are enjoying this.
No Return
- 7 -
Still buried deep in his underground base, shut inside the room he had not left in days, Zim wondered what the hell he'd been thinking when he'd finally agreed to Dib's proposal. Was he really so desperate that he'd allow himself to stoop low enough to fight alongside that wretched Earth-monkey?
…Yes. Yes, he was.
The alien cringed. Though his first instinct was to immediately deny it, to somehow rationalize the situation so it painted the picture he wanted to see, he knew that the Zim-tinted glasses through which he saw things couldn't be put back on. It wasn't that they no longer fit or the prescription had changed; it was more like they'd been torn from his face, thrown to the ground, repeatedly crushed, and driven over by an 18-wheeler… which then backed over them, just in case even a fragment had been left intact. Not real glasses, like the kind the stupid Dib-beast wore.
Stupid human metaphors. They were getting to him. All their clichés and proverbs and witty little sayings that he had come to understand and incorporate into his own vocabulary... they'd gotten to him, and he hated that. Zim was no longer "blending in with the indigenous life" as an observer. He'd begun to assimilate. Even his classmates accepted him as "the Weird Kid", and ridiculed him in a traditional manner no different from how they treated the Dib.
The Dib-pig was certainly annoying; there was no denying that. Zim had found, to his surprise, that the boy wasn't so bad when they weren't fighting. Those moments were incredibly rare, seeing as they usually plotted each other's demise on a daily basis, but they did happen. It was really the boy's overwhelming self-serving self-righteousness that irritated Zim more than anything. Though in retrospect, Zim's own attitude irritated himself. Truthfully, if he was going to be fair to the boy, Dib had probably picked up a bit of Zim's tendencies as a consequence of dealing with him for three years, and that was the behavior he found most loathsome in the child.
Since when did he care if he was fair in regard to the hideous Filth-Beast? Zim gripped his head in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a short wave of sickness passing through him and left frustration in its place. He felt his blood pressure rising as that dreadful, cold empty feeling he'd come to know as "helplessness" crept quietly, spreading it's frigid tendrils through his insides. If it had a physical form, Zim thought, it would be sporting a cruel, taunting, smile.
"…Zim?" The familiar voice interrupted his train of thought. "Zim? Are you okay?"
"Is this what it feels like?" He asked, his normally shrill, shouting voice leaving him as a sad, desperate plea.
"What are you talking about?" Dib asked, finding himself strangely unsettled with the alien's tone. For so long, he dreamed of the day he'd hear that manic laughter shatter into painful sobs and wet, choking screams – particularly at Dib's mercy, begging under the boy's scalpel. Now though, the sight of his nemesis… former nemesis, for the moment, in such angst inspired an unexpected, unfamiliar sadness.
"Being… human." He said, somewhat reluctantly, struggling to keep the distain from his tone, "these… emotions. Is it always... does it…"
"Hurt?" Dib tried.
Zim looked up, a tired, weary expression written on his features, and nodded. Words had been failing him lately. So much, all of it making logic impossible. He guessed that this situation was just another example.
Dib sighed, "Not always."
"You lie." Said with none of its customary vigor.
The boy took a moment to collect his thoughts and break them down in a way that Zim might understand. "Sometimes, it feels like you're never going to stop hurting. Some things will hurt longer than others and then there are some things will always be hard to think about, but they will get easier. Everything takes time to heal. It's frustrating, and sometimes, you cry and scream yourself deaf and dumb and nothing changes. Sometimes, when you think you've hit the bottom and you start trying to climb out, something gives way and it turns out you've still got a long fall ahead because the ground caved in under you. Sometimes, it comes down to the very real decision of whether or not you want to live. And it might not seem like it, it never does, but there's always something to live for. Your Tallest went through all that pain and they could've given up, but they had hope and faith in each other. We're all not as lucky as they were to have what they did, but by the same token, we're all not as unlucky as they were. It's different for everyone. For some people, it's an ideal, or a God, or a dream; for others, it's something as simple guitar strings, bass lines, drum beats, or even art."
Zim made a face.
"Hey, when you think you've lost everything, you've got to find something to hold on to. It's always there… it's just a matter of being able to see it and believe in it, until you can believe in yourself."
"Logically, what you just said makes no sense. But, I… feel… however, that there is some truth to what you said."
"You know first-hand what happens when you live without emotions, Zim. When you rely on logic alone everything is… well, Irken, basically. You've got logic, but no reason… in terms of motivation. All you'd do is satisfy basic needs and stuff, and that'd be boring. I know you know what happens when you suppress emotions over time. They bottle up and you can't handle it when you can't cope with them anymore. Really, the logical thing to do with all that in mind is to have a happy medium."
"Did you get smarter in the last hour or something?" Zim asked curiously, in all seriousness, "Are you the Dib-Bot?"
The boy just looked at Zim as if the alien was mad.
"It's not every day you start talking sense."
"Well, this sort of thing isn't exactly a daily occurrence."
"Hell of a day." Zim sighed, head in his hands.
"Yep. Hell of a day."
"So, what happened with Skooge?"
"He bought the story I told him. I followed him back to his ship and waited around a while. He came back outside and looked like he was playing around with the engine, or something… but it wasn't a normal Voot engine, I can tell you that much. I figure he'll work on it maybe a half-hour more before he decides to come looking for spare parts and a way to contact the Tallest."
The Irken let out a breath of air. "It doesn't feel right, knowing someone else is where they ought to be."
Dib looked at the alien sympathetically, "Your Tallest?"
He nodded. "Zim has seen other Tallests in his lifetime, but… I guess it's just weirder because I grew up with Tallest- well, I guess I can't call them that anymore… it's just 'Red and Purple' now." He shook his head, "Wow, that sounds strange."
"You never told me you actually knew those guys."
"Our interactions were not of the pleasantly social variety, Dib-Beast."
Dib rolled his eyes at the insult that had somehow become a joke, "Yeah. Can't say I've been very friendly."
"I can't say I haven't been trying to annihilate you for three years."
"At least you're honest."
Zim shrugged.
"So tell me about them. Your Tallest. What are they like, except tall?" Dib tried, hoping it would help the Invader – well, former Invader, as it were – to lighten up a bit. The nostalgia seemed to loosen him up, so Dib figured it would be worthwhile to see if encouraging it would have a positive effect.
"Funny, Earth-Boy." The Irken sighed, "Red was always good at fixing stuff. That time you and I were fighting over The Massive's remote control, he was the one who figured it out – and The Massive's not even Irken technology. Engineered entirely by Vortian scientists. Knew the guy who designed it, actually." He paused and sighed with a smile, "Good old Owaiin, back on planet Vort. Told him it would never fly."
"But I thought Irk was a closed planet."
"It is."
Dib looked confused. "If only Irkens can live there, how'd you get to know that guy?"
"Owaiin?"
"Yeah, him." Dib replied, "The one who designed The Massive."
"I met him on Vort, Filthy Meat-Creature."
"Ah. What'd you do there?"
Zim sighed. "Worked with military research and development. They figured I'd be great in that area since I destroyed everything I touched." He laughed, but there was no humor in it; just that terrible emptiness that sounded so wrong coming from the alien. "Tallest Miyuki put me there. Everyone wanted me deactivated by that point. I'd screwed up so much as an Elite Soldier that my Commanding Officer wanted me dishonorably discharged and forget deactivated – he wanted me spaced. Can't say I blame him. I blew up the entire platoon. Miyuki, though… she had such a short reign, but it felt so much longer. She was a peaceful woman. Her Co-Tallest died a few days after being inaugurated. The press called it an assassination… but in retrospect, I think it was an execution. You see, Miyuki was different. She was a diplomat. She must've gone against so many orders… I can't imagine what They did to her for it.
She told the CO to find a place where I could put my 'uniqueness', she called it, to use. That happened to be military research and weapons development on Vort. The two planets were still allies at the time. I worked there for a while."
"Makes sense. You've got a knack for making weapons."
"I'm all right."
"Come on, that time-stasis field thing you built was pretty cool. Well, at least the science of it was."
"Hmph." Zim managed unenthusiastically, "You mean before I ignored everyone's warnings and demolished the city? …How does this place get rebuilt so quickly, anyway?"
Dib paused a moment and asked himself the same question, "I have no idea. I'll make a note to investigate that."
"GIR even tried to tell me what would happen. GIR! The SIR unit that tried to make friends with the fire hydrant - was more capable than I was."
"Come on, Zim. You won't repeat the same mistake again."
"This is me, Dib-Pig. I am a repeating mistake."
"The hardest lessons take the most time to learn. My mom used to say that, before she left."
"Where did she go? And has she noticed how long she's been out? What could be taking her so long?"
Dib shook his head with the small trace of a smile, "No, Zim, she didn't leave like that. She left my family. Divorced my dad."
"As I understand it, Earth-children are very close to their birth-givers… or to the parents they bond with in early stages of development, correct?"
Dib nodded.
Zim fumbled for words, and managed a stutter of syllables that left his mouth as something less coherent than gibberish. Still, the human got a basic sense of what the alien was failing to articulate.
"Thanks, Zim; but you don't have to be sorry."
The Irken settled in his seat again and collected his thoughts. "Zim has no parents, so he cannot understand."
"It's all right. You get over it. … Well, that's not exactly true. It's one of those things that kinda always hurts a little when you think about, but it doesn't bother me as much, and I don't think about it as often as I used to. I mean, when nobody's home, when it's Parent-Teacher night, or my dad pisses me off, those are really the only times I remember. Sometimes I get mad at her for leaving. Other times, I think I get mad at her because she was able to leave."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm stuck with my dad. And he's not a bad guy, really, he just… he sees me as a mistake. My mom doesn't have to deal with him never being around or disappointing him. She gets to be free."
"I think you're being what you Earth-children call "emo"."
"Zim just used the word "emo" in a completely serious sentence. Now I know the world is ending."
Zim rolled his eyes, "I meant to imply that you are not nearly as much a failure to your father as I am to my entire race."
"I guess. I haven't been kicked out of the house yet. But I'm not sure he cares if I'm there or not anymore."
"I'm sure he loves you, he just has an odd Earth-Type way of communicating it."
Dib was quiet for a minute, as if considering something, and then deciding against it. "So. Planet Vort?"
"Yes?"
"Tell me about it."
"You know about Vort, Dib. You've been through the Universal Database of Knowledge and Stuff. Well, a little of it, at least."
Dib looked startled. "How did you,"
"That time I locked on to the signal you were broadcasting to control the Massive. I was able to go through remotely and see all the files you downloaded."
"Where'd you learn that?"
"Owaiin."
"And he just gives you this information?! Didn't your people imprison him, or something?"
Zim gave a nostalgic laugh, "I did him a favor a while back."
"I'll say. Must've been some favor."
"Set him up with his boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend, last I heard." Zim frowned, "It's a shame, really. They were together such a long time."
"You kept in touch?"
"I'd ask when I called in favors every now and again. It was fine until seven or eight, maybe, of your human years ago. "He just didn't want to talk about it. Seems to be a trait common in every species, I've noticed."
"Interesting."
"Vort was a good place. You'd like it there. Lots of technology and all kinds of aliens. At least, before Irk took over and built the prisons."
"Does your species do anything, other than destroy things?"
"I'd say no, but… then there are anomalies, like Red and Purple. They just… they're different. I guess maybe they were born with defective receptors, or maybe none at all… but I think it's something else. Something organic. Your guess is as good as mine. I think we're an aggressive species. We are rather short, and it's like that Darwin-Human talked about."
"You became stronger and more aggressive to ward off natural predators and stay alive."
"Exactly.
"Go on," Dib sighed, "I'm interested to hear more about those leaders of yours."
"… I'm boring you, aren't I?"
"Not at all, Zim!"
"Zim will not be hurt if you tell him the truth."
"Come on, this is inside information about Irken social behavior I'll never have access to! Plus, I get to learn more about your leaders,"
"Former leaders."
"Former leaders. I won't have to dance for them to have my questions answered, and we're having a fairly pleasant conversation, not actively trying to kill each other!"
"You danced?"
"…It was GIR's suggestion."
"When was this?"
"You got abducted in the middle of class by that enormous Irken... the one wearing the apron and a respirator mask?"
Zim shuddered. "Sizz-Lorr."
"Well, with a name like that, at least the apron makes sense."
Zim stared at him for a minute before erupting in laughter, "You danced for the Tallest?"
"Yeah, well...." Dib mumbled. "Are you gonna tell me or not?"
"Maybe I ought to make you dance for me before I give away all my secrets."
"Okay, that goes on the list of 'Stuff Zim Should Never Say'. Right next to that one about 'shaving my giant head of smell with my bad self' or whatever it was."
Zim rolled his eyes, "You're just jealous I came up with it first, Large-Headed-Puny-Dirt-Child."
"Oh yeah, Zim. I'm in awe of your conversational ability."
"As you should be. I am ZIM!" He shouted, in a mockery of himself.
Dib couldn't help but laugh. Zim being able to joke at his own expense was a good sign, so he figured he'd try to keep on communicating with the Irken. Sometimes, just the simple act of talking could provide an outlet for stress. "Go on, then. So far, all I know is the red one's called "Red", and he's good at fixing stuff."
"He's a good strategist, too. The charismatic type. He could be inexcusably rude or cruel for no reason at all, and everyone still liked him. He never apologized for anything, to anyone, except Purple. Pretty aggressive and competitive. Obsessed to an unhealthy degree with lasers. Don't ask, I don't get it, either. I'm not sure Purple does. Or even Red, for that matter. He'd push Purple around a lot but Purple always pushed back, and they'd wrestle the life out of each other. The constant rolling around on the floor together should have been a sign of something, now that I think about it. It became such a regular thing that we all eventually had pools going, back at the Academy. Every day, we'd bet on which one would start it and who would win. I made a lot of extra monies off that, actually. They were pretty evenly matched, but Purple usually won.
He was probably the best fighter in the Academy. More agile, I think. No one had the kind of talent he did, in terms of hand-to-hand combat. I've tried for years to learn to fight the way he did naturally… obviously, that didn't happen."
"What made him so good? Was he just stronger than everyone else, or did he use some kind of weird style?" Dib asked curiously.
"Well, he was pretty strong, but it was really about how he fought. The thing about his style was that he didn't have one."
"That doesn't make much sense."
"I was getting there." Zim explained, "Purple's style was his opponent's style, whoever they were at the time. I know logically how he did it, but you'd be surprised how hard it is to adapt as quickly as he can. He'd always give his opponent the upper hand at first. All he needed, at most was to take two punches and you'd be on the ground before you could blink again. He'd learn your technique – figure you out – in a few seconds and be effective enough to use it against you.
Let's see… what else can I say about him? He can sound completely nonsensical, but if you get him to slow down, he's actually pretty smart. His brain moves faster than his mouth, is what Red used to say. Particularly enjoys puppets.
The two of them used to blow up the Chemistry Wing a lot. And Red loved pulling pranks. Purple… not so much, but Red would always drag him into it. And usually get them both out of it, too."
"So all Irkens are just as… explosive, as you are?"
"Hilarious, Filthy-Worm-Brained-Creature. No. I'm pretty sure they meant to blow it up."
"Isn't that illegal?"
Zim looked at Dib as if he was an idiot. "It's Irk, Dib. The Academy is built for that sort of thing. You've got rebellious kids being taught how to make explosions. After a few hundred years, they figured out what that equals."
"Got it."
"So, what are we going to do when Skooge gets here?"
"Why are you asking me? This is your plan, Zim."
"Really?" He contemplated a moment, "… Well, I'm sure it made perfect sense when I thought of it."
Dib just rolled his eyes. "So we're winging it, basically."
"Master," The Computer interrupted, "the Irken identified as 'Skooge' is at the door. Awaiting orders."
"Oh, um… keep the security system down. Let him in. Override any commands he issues and send him to this room." Zim ordered.
"Anything else, Sir?"
"That's all, for now, Computer. Thank you."
The Computer seemed to stutter for a moment, unaccustomed to the verbal appreciation. "You're, uh… welcome, Sir."
"So we've got a plan now?" Dib asked.
"It'll do."
"Care to fill me in?"
"I'm making this up as I go along."
Dib sighed, "At least neither of us know what's going on."
"You are not very reassuring at all, Human."
"…Yeah, I just realized that."
"All right, everyone, it might be a little bumpy coming out of Hyperspace, so please fasten your seat belts and for your own safety, we ask that you refrain from resting cups containing hot beverages between your legs. We do not assume responsibility for your lack of intelligence. We will be jumping back to normal space in one minute, and counting. Headache, fatigue, nausea, insomnia, dizziness upon standing, and incessant vomiting may occur. Anything else is your problem entirely. Thank you for flying Resisty Spacelines, we hope your journey was at least as pleasant as being ripped apart by a pack of wild Rcagnoraks, disembowelment, or the death penalty on Ugelkesh." Red spoke in a pleasant voice, dripping with the sweetness of cotton candy, covered with artificial sugar.
Purple would've given Red a firm, stern glace, but all he could do was try (and fail) miserably to stifle his own laughter.
The jump back to normal space was successful and much to everyone's satisfaction did not cause the ship to explode, catch fire, or spontaneously turn into a penguin. Red stabilized the ship's main engines and deactivated hyperdrive. He checked the fuel levels and began running a full systems scan, just to make sure the jump hadn't caused any kind of hull breaches or structural damage. He was positive that the crew (or the refugees) would have felt something like that, but Red wasn't about to take any more chances.
"Everything looks like it's in tact." Red stated, to no one in particular.
"Glad to hear it." Said the voice of the Captain, "Are we able to pick up news transmissions yet?"
"The communications equipment should harmonize in a minute or so. It's still offline from the jump. We shouldn't send any kind of signals until we get to the rendezvous point on Malterra. Less chance that someone will notice it. We can pick up broadcasts anonymously, though. Sally worked that one out." The red-eyed Irken explained.
The Vortian just nodded.
Red punched in a few sequences, turned some dials, and flicked a couple of switches before a voice began to cut in and out under the static of the vidscreen. "Just gotta tune it…" He said, carefully adjusting the settings on the panel in front of him.
The image faded in, grainy at first and then gradually resolved itself in high definition. The audio came through with perfect clarity, and there wasn't a single person on board grateful for it.
…when one of our news probes in Sigma 7 picked up an enormous disturbance. What we received were shocking images of Planet Vort – or rather, what used to be Planet Vort. I was one of the first reporters on the scene. It's not yet clear how this atrocity happened, but authorities on Meekrob claim no knowledge of this attack. Irken Law Enforcement officers speculate that due to the nature of the disaster, it was orchestrated by a terrorist group - either an organized resistance or a faction composed of Irken citizens still brainwashed by government traitors. The Tallest are scheduled to formally address the Empire later this evening.
For those just joining us, this is IENN reporting live from Sigma 7. Planet Vort, home to Irk's military research and development prison facility, was decimated by what Irken Authorities believe to have been a terrorist group. The current assumption everyone seems to be under at this moment in the investigation is that the main prison was infiltrated and its fusion reactor, sabotaged by a fanatic group with hostile intent. A perimeter has been set up around the irradiated area, and should be avoided by any life forms affected negatively by exposure.
The death toll is estimated to be close to a thousand Irkens, all working at the time, with no word on the number of prisoners. We have no solid figures yet, but we'll be covering this story as it develops.
Images of a vast, smoky nothing with chunks of irradiated rock suspended within it consumed the screen as everyone on the bridge tried to process the implications of what the fuck had just happened.
"… We did that." Hoverbrain said, to no one at all.
Spleenk looked at the Captain with sympathetic eyes, but the Vortian's stare never left the screen. At a loss for anything else, he very cautiously reached out and touched the other's arm. "Hey, Lard Nar? Are you with me?" He asked quietly.
"… It's gone. I can't ever go home."
"I know." Spleenk offered a reassuring grip on the Vortian's hand, "Neither can I."
The Captian unexpectedly wrenched his hand out of the other alien's grip. Frustrated, fighting back tears of rage and regret and crushing defeat he explained, "I'm sorry, I just – I can't,"
Spleenk just nodded. "It's all right."
Purple took in the sight of his counterpart and felt the pain in his chest that was becoming all too familiar. Red looked so small. A child on stilts loaded with a burden far too heavy for him to carry and still maintain balance. He understood with perfect clarity what the terrified, vulnerable expression on Red's face meant. It was one of the few times when he would share the same emotional sensations as his partner simply by looking at him. He knew that right now the crimson-eyed Irken was feeling as if the floor beneath him had given out, and his stomach was lurching from the free-fall.
Purple approached his partner with a degree of caution, but Red caught his eyes before he ever reached out. They held each other's gaze for a long moment before Red turned his face back to the monitor, watching as the news network ran a computer-simulation of the explosion. As the computerized planet erupted into a brilliant glow of white light, Red spoke in a voice only Purple could hear.
"Enough fire for you yet?"
Purple didn't understand for a moment what in the world Red was talking about but after running the sentence through his head a few times, it hit him like a fist to the stomach.
"I don't think there's enough fire call it an apocalypse yet."
"So you need fire to have an apocalypse now?"
"Raging fire is a basic staple of any apocalypse worth having."
Staring at the images on the screen in front of him, Purple wondered if maybe he'd been right.
"Murderer!" Smikka Smikka Smoodoo shouted angrily, glaring sharply in the direction of his pointed finger, "This is your fault, do you hear me?!"
Red shrank under accusation but only one occupant of the room noticed.
The yellow creature snarled, "You destroyed a planet and butchered your own kind! But I guess that's all in a day's work for the two of you, isn't it?"
The crew was confused when the former Irken leader quietly rose to his feet without meeting anyone's eyes and instead of offering the explanation they anticipated, he turned away and left the bridge without a word.
Nobody knew what to say, so nothing was said until Purple shook his head and sighed with a cold and frighteningly calm presence about him. "Did that make a difference for you, Smikka Smikka Smoodoo? Did it change anything? Because I'm still reading a great big nothing where there used to be a planet!" He shouted. "Blaming me is a shitty thing to do, but blaming Red is even worse. We're only as guilty as you are. We all agreed on a course of action, and he was the only one who tried to warn us otherwise! We all knew the risks, and we almost lost a hell of a lot more than Vort!" Purple reminded, "We almost lost Tenn and damn near a fifth of the refugees, an entire starship, and it's crew. You want to trade that for a piece of rock?! If you're going to stand there and tell me all those innocent lives, the nearly two-thousand of them, aren't worth it, what does that make you, then?"
Smikka Smikka Smoodoo had no reply, nor did he raise his head to meet Purple's expression. The latter turned away and put a palm to his forehead in exasperation. "Universe knows, I've seen that man at his worst and don't think that just because I love him I've forgotten, or that I'm all right with it in the least. I love him because I remember. Because I've seen him change and I know he's not ever going to be that way again."
The timid silence was broken with a delicate, unexpected voice. "…How can you know that?" It was a genuine question, asked with innocence and genuine curiosity.
Purple wondered briefly if Spleenk was capable of being offensive as he paused before exiting the flight deck. He took a deep breath and sighed, turned his head around just enough to catch the four-armed alien's eyes, offering a strange sort of half-smile no one could really place. "Because he loves me."
"My mistake then," Smikka Smikka Smoodoo replied with some angry sarcasm, "call the preacher and send for both houses – let's get you two witnessed by the ancestors!" He made a disgusted noise, "I don't care how much you claim to love each other, it's your reason for everything and it's getting redundant!"
The way Purple glared at him made the yellow screw-headed-creature regret opening his mouth. "I'm aware of how little you care, as you made it quite clear from the moment we arrived. I am not as dense as you might think. But since you clearly were not blessed with even a miniscule drop of intelligence, I'll spell it out.
If there's one of us you ought to be afraid of, it's me. I snapped before he did. I've done things to him I'll never be able to forgive myself for, things he shouldn't have forgiven me for. Things I don't think he could forgive if I ever did them again. Red watched me become a monster. He watched the only thing he had left turn into what he hated – what he swore he'd never become – and the only thing he could do for the sake of his own sanity was to ignore it. He had to stand there and watch me laugh when I ordered people to be spaced. He let me touch him with hands he knew were covered with innocent blood hours earlier. Can you even fathom the kind of betrayal that is?! I've seen what I've done to him, and I know what it would do if I ever did those things again. If you're still confused, or have any questions, I'll be in my quarters. You can just wait outside until I'm done repairing the damage you've caused."
Silence fell over the crew following the former Irken dictator's exit. Silence so heavy and cold it froze the words inside everyone's throat as footsteps dissipated, so overwhelming it somehow managed to mask even the sounds of the ship. It was a terrible quiet that made them feel wrong and dirty in a way none of them had thought possible and somehow, that made it worse. None of them had considered that Irk's former Tallest could have caused each other such profound suffering while together forcing destruction and pain on the universe.
Now, though, knowing what they did about the Empire - that Red and Purple had merely been scapegoats for a larger agenda, ordered to pull the proverbial (or literal) trigger while the barrel of a second gun was pressed against the other's head – it was harder and harder to hold them responsible. Yes, they still carried out their orders and to a degree and it could be argued that made them guilty by association, and while it was true that no one the ship forgave them entirely, it could not be denied that it was a gray moral area.
What served to further complicate the issue was everyone's own unique history. Each species had it's own code of values, it's own traditions, and each crewmember had expounded their cultural inheritance based on their particular life experience. One thing that was true of a large majority was that being forced to question those beliefs and traditions made them uncomfortable, to say the least. The level of discomfort in the room reached new levels as the crew exchanged glances that struggled to hide their own guilt or cover up their sympathy. For so many of them, their instinctual responses to everyday issues were perfectly lined up with what was designated "acceptable" within their own personal philosophies. Since their arrival, Red and Purple had done noting but force everyone into uncomfortable territory – and it was not primarily a response to Red's typical R-rated remarks. They no longer had a focus to direct the brunt of their hatred and anger. It was so much easier to hate something with a physical form than to hold an abstract responsible (unless you were one of the Universe's few creatures of the abstract. But such was not the case in this particular situation).
While information about the specific nature of the punishments they had endured was sparse and vague to most of the crew, even that small bit of knowledge had been enough to stir sympathy. Irk and anything associated with it – particularly the Tallests responsible for Operation Impending Doom II, was in no way, shape, or form supposed to evoke feelings at that end of the spectrum. Most of them had chosen to write those instincts off entirely and just ignore the former dictators whenever they happened to cross paths, and maybe offer an angry, unforgiving and depending on the situation, spiteful glare. The ship was a Vortian Explorer-Class vessel, and despite her enormity, one thing that held true throughout the entire universe was that even faster than the speed of sound or light was the speed at which word seemed to travel. Not long after the ranking members of the Resistance had their first meeting with the two Irkens, the entire ship had heard some version of it. Specifically, how there had been something their one-time-oppressors had gone through that was so traumatic it made Som Saa, the legendary Meekrobian war veteran and the planet's current acting Military General of Interplanetary Warfare, puke his proverbial brains out.
It was a great deal to process and it was a difficult situation to accept, which made it easy to fall into familiar patterns when something went wrong. It was much less complicated to forget they'd ever considered enlightenment, and just go back to the way they'd always reacted because it was easier. Staying within one's comfort zone was always the safe and practical choice. It was logical and made sense. No matter how strongly they empathized with the former Irken dictators, or how much their hearts argued that they were all part of the same fight, that just because it was harder to believe it wasn't any less true, their minds would always argue that they could never be sure, and why risk so much when they had such a good thing going for them.
Moments like this, when their hearts won out and the only thing in their heads was the reminder that they had not been the only people that had lost something, that their individual motivations for fighting the Empire were not the only valid ones… it all managed to really hit home. The realization that by playing it safe, they stood to lose so much more than they would gain felt like an anvil they could only stand frozen in place to watch as it fell toward them. Their fellow crewmember's accusation gave a voice to the thought so many of them hadn't gotten the chance to articulate, and it had finally prompted them to understand that they all signed on for different reasons but they all came from the same place – and Red and Purple were no different.
No one present was a stranger to loss. Not one of them could say despair had not been a frequent companion.
And Smikka Smikka Smoodoo had been right – Red and Purple often reasoned that their personal relationship was an answer for almost every important question but none of them, save the Captain, knew why they should accept that as a satisfactory answer. The crew had wanted proof at the beginning that this wasn't a trap or a scheme; that their Captain hadn't been cloned, replaced with an android replica, or just finally gone insane under pressure, and after a lot of explaining they still demanded reassurance. One reason why they ought to be trusted.
They couldn't have known how much those three simple, overused, and clichéd words implied when the two former leaders first arrived. Rumor was that Purple had been about to beat Som Saa to a bloody pulp when Red stopped him with a grip on his wrist and a look the two exchanged. Some of them joked Red had Purple whipped, or something of a derogatory nature. Now, there was an understanding among them that it hadn't been a threat; it had been a look that begged the other not to regress, to remember who he was and where they were and that he was legitimately worried. To overcome such life-changing events and somehow find the ability to forgive each other while still remaining mindful was a curious thing.
While in power, they could have easily had the other assassinated. It wasn't about the sex; they could have just as easily found a replacement or indulged in something else that was just as satisfying in it's own right. It wasn't guilt that kept them together all this time, nor was it desperation or neediness. They were simply better for having the other around. They did not complete each other, as neither of them was dependent or empty, but they complemented each other, and everyone was surprised at how they had failed to notice it before. After a long, pensive moment, someone finally dared to speak.
"Wow, you're an ASSHOLE!"
Shloonktapooxis was nothing, if not honest.
Purple knew that words would have no effect on his companion at a time like this. If he wanted to communicate with Red, he'd have to do it in a language his partner would understand. He felt something twist painfully in his chest at the sight of the red-eyed Irken sitting at the long edge of their bed. He was stoic and unmoving with his face turned toward the floor. His eyes were hard and frustrated but he wasn't crying. He had told Purple once he only cried over things that were important, like when his partner was hurt.
"What about when you're hurt?" Purple had asked, sitting beside his friend at a time when they were still somewhat green and hopeful.
"I told you, I only cry over things worth crying over."
"And you don't think you're worth that much?"
"Sorry." He shrugged.
Purple sighed. "No. I'm sorry."
"Why?"
"Because if that's what you think, then you really do have something to cry about."
He sat beside the other in silence for a moment, and then without a word took hold of one of Red's hands. "You're really going to believe him?"
Red offered no reply, which was a direct enough answer for Purple.
"You know he's an idiot and he's looking for someone to blame."
"Doesn't mean he's wrong."
"Yes, he is. I know you don't believe that."
"Have you forgotten the last… how many fucking years? This was an unintended consequence, but you know he's right. The things we've done… what we're capable of. …We laughed watching the Scarlet Junction burn. They didn't even order us to do it. We just happened to be in the neighborhood. I've never seen space like that. It was incredible, and we destroyed it… you remember, don't you?"
Purple was less than proud to nod in agreement. He didn't like to think about the kind of person he used to be. Vicious and self-serving, he had a problem with impulse-control. Looking back on it, he might have behaved so wildly in an effort to propel himself toward the inevitable crash. His encounter with Ori had made him realize things he had tried so desperately to rationalize, and that revelation had been too much to cope with. He had the burden of such terrible acts and he was, to some degree, directly responsible for them – but they would have happened without him just the same. His mind often struggled with how much of the guilt was his to carry and how much was the responsibility of those who ordered the horrible tasks carried out by his hands. By the time they'd torched the Scarlet Junction, Purple knew somewhere that he was determined to push himself to the brink of his capacity for cruelty. He didn't know what would happen once he reached that point, but he figured he'd either surrender himself entirely to Their will, go mad, find a reason to redeem himself, or hate himself so much he'd stop flirting with the idea of self-conclusion and finally take up the motivation to follow through. He was still ashamed of what ultimately ended up happening, but he had resolved a long time ago that nothing could be done to change it and all he could do was leave it as it was, accept it as another life experience, and derive all the wisdom he could from it. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.
There weren't many things that Purple was reluctant to talk about, as he preferred to deal with things directly and always seemed to be the one trying to convince his co-leader that communication was an effective way to resolve issues, but what they'd done to the Scarlet Junction was not a topic that had ever been up for conversation.
Smaller than a galaxy, the Scarlet Junction had been a network of 32 planets, each with two suns (except the central planet, Emiror, which had three), all arranged so that the light that reflected off the surfaces of the planets, their moons, and other stars, made the network illuminate the black void of space with every shade of red. It was a natural phenomenon, unlike anywhere else in the universe. Because of its uniqueness, the Scarlet Junction thrived. Its people were among the oldest of the known races. It was the yearly meeting place for every significant branch of academia, and most notably where the Intergalactic Award for Scientific Achievement was given.
They were a peaceful people, and had long since done away with the notion of territorial scuffles. Combat could still be learned, as a discipline, a way of life, an art, or an exercise. It was rumored that the fabled Ninja clan, Lacertous, had originated on one of the small moons of Terekon. Though most of the Junction had pantheistic religious views, other ideals and practices were welcomed. The moon of Extoll had become a center for religious life, one enormous monastery that offered free lodging and food, full access of the library to anyone who interested, and so on. Many theological students often came to study abroad, as it had not only a bountiful collection of primary-source texts but also sufficient living accommodations that did not bleed their bank accounts (pursuing a degree in Universal Theology involved more schooling than a medical practitioner had to go through, since each of the major religions had it's sects and second-cousins twice removed). The program worked just fine for those belonging to the monastery, as every new student had a story and a new perspective on the Universe, and that was something they found most invaluable. The community sustained itself through the exchange of goods, services, and donations.
Most of the order died when rest of the Junction was destroyed, but there were still several large groups that had been serving the Universal community on other worlds, building shelter and distributing food on planets stricken by disaster, or helping to nurse the wounds of smaller planets caught in the crossfire of war-torn territories. Their moral principles were simple, really. Above all things, they believed that regardless of what planet they came from, every single sentient creature should have respect for one another. The universe was vast and incomprehensible, but all those planets and people came to be the same way they had. They did not claim to know how the universe was created, if there was a God, a Great Maker, an Overseer, or a conglomeration of celestial beings responsible for shaping existence; they might not ever know where it came from, but that wasn't what mattered. They did not seek to convert, only to listen. They spoke of their beliefs only when asked. It was a strange concept to most of the other worlds, but there was a great deal of wisdom in knowing that you know nothing.
The Scarlet Junction… it had everything. It was home to art, music, history, culture, and trillions of people. The two of them had been lounging on the bridge, laughing obnoxiously about something irrelevant when the pilot spoke.
"We're coming up on the Scarlet Junction now, Sirs. ETA to destination currently 76:12:53."
The dictators rose from their seats and stared out the Massive's panoramic glass. The sparkling system before them was nothing short of breathtaking, like shining diamonds and rubies arranged across black velvet. They knew about the history of the Scarlet Junction, that it was teeming with life and peace… it represented everything that they could never have. It was that which would always be just outside their reach, too far away to touch but so close it always tempted them to reach out, only to be disappointed in the end. Just observing the pure, natural beauty of the nebulous light made both of them uncomfortable. It seemed to stare into their souls, gazing at them with a painful sympathy and disbelief that asked a question both of them heard echoing in their minds.
Why?
Silence stretched on between the two Irkens for a short time before Purple spoke.
"Hey, Red?" He asked, never taking his eyes off of the Natural Wonder of the Universe before him.
"Yeah?"
"I want to watch it burn."
Red's eyes moved to his co-leader. "You too?" He asked with a widening grin, which his companion returned. "Hey! …Whoever's flying this thing! We're gonna take a little detour."
"You know," Purple said, only addressing the red-eyed Irken, "Sometimes, this job isn't all that bad."
Red pulled Purple aside, into the hallway and out of view. His hands gripped his partner's hips as he arched against Purple, who just barely stifled the moan he couldn't prevent. "No," he said, biting Purple's neck, "it's not."
His partner let out a low growl, "Don't start something you can't finish."
"Oh, I plan to finish. Several times."
"My mistake. I seem to have forgotten how ambitious you are."
"Looks like I'll just have to make sure you commit it to memory, then."
"So why are we still standing here?"
"I'll meet you in the bedroom. I've got to give the driver instructions."
"Don't keep me waiting."
"Have I ever?"
True to his word, Purple hadn't waited long at all for Red to find him. It had been good, physically satisfying, but it always felt like something was missing. He chose to ignore that, though. Without giving even the slightest hint of the last few hours, Red and Purple stood on the bridge, within range of the scarlet abyss. A thought began to surface in Purple's mind, a quote he'd come across while going through some of the Earth literature Zim had sent. He and Red would sometimes go through these items for laughs, as there was always bound to be something new and absurd – like those books about that "vampire" who "dazzles" in the sunlight. The Nosferatu were, in reality a species from the planet Vahamphire in the Drackulah System. Their native world had 67 moons, and their rotation coupled with that of the planet only provided 2-6 hours of light per day, depending on the season. They were a species born in the dark, and they evolved to suit their environment. Their body temperature changed to harmonize with their climate, and all of their internal systems necessary for survival were equipped for such a thing. They were basically immune to the cold. The humans had been right about their eating habits; the Nosferatu did derive most of their nourishment from blood. They were really unable to leave their world, for the most part, without an artificially created environment because they would literally overheat and burst into flames, which was another thing the humans had been correct about. Purple reasoned that an Earth-creature must have been abducted by some species carrying a Nosferatu on board, observed a few things, and drawn their own conclusions. The Nosferatu did consume blood, burst into flames in direct sunlight, but they most certainly, did not "dazzle".
Humans. Such pathetic and feeble creatures. Purple was surprised, on occasion, to discover that there were some who defied his basic assumption and proved to be of a much greater intelligence than the majority. He found he rather appreciated the musings of those dubbed "philosophers", and had taken to reading their work.
The words hadn't felt nearly as insightful when they resurfaced that day, as he stood waiting for the ship's laser cannon to warm up. Purple muttered to himself so not even Red could hear his voice, "He who fights with monsters might take care, lest he thereby become a monster himself." He stared out the window, feeling a horrible, proud hatred, "Also, when you gaze for long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you."
"Firing in five… four… three… two…"
Purple smiled slowly, taking in the explosion before him. Renewed and vindicated, he could not help but feel a sense of victory. Sharing a glance with his co-leader, he saw the same sadistic delight in Red's eyes, and they laughed.
"We're not like that anymore."
"What if we are?"
"We're not." Purple replied forcefully. The two finally made eye contact and Red was not expecting the intensity burning in his partner's eyes. "I'd never do anything that would make you suffer like that again. And I know you wouldn't either."
Red sighed, "That's just it, Pur. If I lost you, Universe forbid… not a damn thing would cross my path and live to talk about it. I'd be worse than before, and you wouldn't be there to stop me. You know what I'm capable of."
"Then promise me."
"Promise you what?"
"Promise me that however far down the line, if something happens to me… I want you to promise me you won't change."
Red shook his head vigorously in disagreement. "No. I can't. No, I – how can you ask me that? How can you ask me not to grieve for you?"
"I never said that." Purple replied calmly, laying his free hand against his partner's cheek, "I expect you to grieve. I'd be inconsolable if I lost you, and I don't hold you to a different standard. I just don't want you to lose yourself. I don't want to be the reason you become what you hate, again. I don't want you to have a moment when you realize I'm gone and you hate yourself for what you've let happen because you know how much it upset me the first time. I know we'll both most likely go down together in the end, but for some reason if we don't, it's all right if you grieve. I'm not asking you to promise me you'll get over it in an hour and keep on with your life. I just want you to promise you'll stay you."
Red sighed, "I don't know." He wouldn't make a promise unless intended to keep it.
"I know what I'm asking seems impossible. I know how much it hurts to think about having to live without me. It's agony just thinking about the possibility that I might lose you. But I know you wouldn't ever want me to go down that road again. And that's the only thought that would keep me together. So if you're worried that you'd get so overwhelmed you'd forget what I'd want, then promise me so you'll remember."
Red looked at his partner for a long time, and Purple could see the internal struggle manifesting in his features. He carefully wrapped his arms around Red and drew the conflicted Irken into a firm, comforting embrace. He felt Red starting to shudder intermittently and held him as close as he could.
"I love you, Baby. At least promise me you'll remember that."
Red choked and held his partner tighter, and Purple had experience enough to know he was on the verge of tears. Being Red, though, Purple also knew he'd refuse to cry until his body forced it out.
He broke with a loud, forceful sob that shook his entire form. "…Yes," he managed, in between breathless fits of tears, "I promise… I promise, I promise…."
"Nothing you've done and nothing you can do is ever going to change that. I'm yours. You're stuck with me forever."
He struggled to speak, but he still hadn't calmed down enough to form anything close to a coherent sentence.
"I promise, Baby. You don't ever have to question that." Purple just held the other Irken and allowed him to cry. As much as he hated when Red was upset, it was somewhat comforting when he would finally break down. The red-eyed Irken had a terrible habit of keeping everything to himself and holding it in until he couldn't take any more. Purple couldn't deny he was glad to know his partner wasn't trying to hide how the events of earlier had affected him.
Gradually, Red cried himself out. Once his tears tapered off and he had collected himself, he took a deep, shaking breath and withdrew from his partner far enough to make sufficient eye contact.
"Are you all right?" Purple asked with a considerable degree of concern.
"I just cried my guts out," he laughed, "what kind of question is that?"
"Fair enough." Purple returned the small smile his partner had given him, and watched as it gave way to a serious expression. He ran a hand down the back the other Irken's head, "What is it?"
Any trace of confidence was gone from the red-eyed Irken. His antennas laid flat against his head and he seemed to shrink away when he met his partner's eyes. "I thought about it. …What you asked me before, about… if something happened to you…"
Purple opened his mount to speak, but Red's expression told his partner that he still had something left to say. Purple conceded and waited for Red to finish.
"…I thought about it… and I promise."
Purple decided to forgo words entirely and responded by pulling his partner into an unexpected, deep kiss. It wasn't frantic or needy but rather, delicate and intentional, with so much passion Red half-expected his lungs to collapse, but it didn't make him any less eager to find his partner's lips after breaking for only as much air as was necessary. Stupid lungs, if only they didn't have to breathe Purple could kiss him like this for hours without having to break apart for a second. He felt the violet-eyed Irken's fingers working the clasps of his armor and sighed as he heard the familiar click of the last metal fastening coming undone and felt the heavy weight slide off his chest. He reached his hands around Purple and quickly returned the favor, tearing off his gauntlets before frantically working on removing his partner's. After Purple's arms were free, Red's hands went to his partner's waist with the intention of removing his hover-belt and lower robe when Purple's hand caught his wrist and pulled it away. Red looked at him with a confused expression, worried that maybe he'd done something wrong.
Purple didn't say anything. He simply released the grip on his partner's wrist and went to work removing the rest of Red's clothes. Purple kissed he other chastely on the lips and Red understood what he was asking. He laid back and waited while Purple took a moment to study Red's body. He smiled before he took in the familiar, aging scars and ran a hand over the uneven planes of his chest.
"You know something, Red?"
"Mm?"
"I don't even see any of this when I look at you."
Purple's hands were everywhere, except the one place Red would have liked them to be, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain focus on anything but the wonderful sensations Purple knew full well he was provoking. "What are you talking about?" He arched into a particularly pleasant touch, and then took a gasping breath that he exhaled as a hiss as the violet-eyed Irken coiled one of Red's antennas around his finger.
Purple leaned in close and whispered, "I love you."
Red captured his partner's lips in a kiss that set a rush a heat through Purple's blood. The Irken beneath him gasped, throwing his head back involuntarily when Purple brushed his hand across Red's inner thigh. Purple took the opportunity to kiss Red's neck, gently sucking and biting at the spots he knew Red had a weakness for. Slowly, Purple made his way down the other's body, using everything he had learned about its preferences over the years to please it. Red was incoherent long before Purple even really touched him; lust pounded in his skull but he had no desire to give in just yet. He felt his partner's lips pressed against his hip, his thigh, inside his knee, oh god, his inner thigh, and then the same progression repeated on his other leg.
"You okay so far, Baby?"
The sight of Purple between his legs shouldn't have made the heat pool in his stomach like that after all these years, but it was just as effective now as it had ever been. "You don't know what it does to me… seeing you like that…"
Purple grinned in a satisfied fashion, "Oh Sweetheart," he said, placing a delicate kiss to a part of Red's anatomy that would have earned them both an execution on Irk, "I think I know exactly what it does to you." He finished, closing his hand around his partner. Red bucked his hips and made an assortment of loud, strangled noises, trying to assert some sort of self-control and failing miserably.
Purple's steady, even strokes were intentionally just shy of enough to be maddening. Red could no longer think about anything except the rising lust in his brain and his body was begging Purple for release. It was still too soon, though, he knew it somewhere, and his body would just have to wait. "Nghh, ahh, Purrr… s…ss-stop, please, I don't… not yet…" He managed.
Purple understood and obliged Red's request. Red struggled to control is breathing while his hips jerked a few times, still anticipating the friction they hadn't realized was gone. "Honey… are you all right?" The concern in Purple's voice was strong and even in his lust-induced delirium, Red could make it out.
"…Yes… just, ahh," he hissed as he inhaled sharply, "need a minute…"
The violet-eyed Irken ran his hand across the other's forehead. "Maybe we should stop, Red… I don't want to hurt you."
"I'm fine, Sweetie. I wanted to go a bit longer, I just need a minute to catch my breath."
"You know the kind of stress this puts on the body."
"If it wasn't so damn fun, breeding would've died out a long time ago."
"I'm not laughing, Red. What happens if your Pak shorts out?"
"It wouldn't be a bad way to go."
Purple's expression indicated that he was not pleased.
"I really am fine, Baby. If you're uncomfortable with it, though, we can stop."
Purple kissed him. "You know I wouldn't take you this far if I didn't plan on finishing you off."
Red's hands found his partner's waist and he tossed his Purple's hover-belt to the floor quickly followed by his violet lower-robe. "I want you."
"I'm right here, Honey."
"Tell me you love me."
"I love you. You know I love you."
"Show me how much."
"You're sure?"
Red smiled. "You always ask. I've never changed my answer."
"Is that a 'yes'?"
"Yes."
The Captain just sat in his quarters, still too shocked to be considered fully conscious. His mind disassociated from the present circumstances in order to preserve itself, as if he were outside his body, watching himself watch nothing at all while he tried unsuccessfully to accept what had happened. His bunk was a mess from when he'd torn through it earlier. He stormed through as if mimicking a hurricane until his body gave out and he finally collapsed, sobbing and screaming. When his voice grew tired, only the tears persisted as he managed to climb off the floor and onto his bed. He'd been sitting there, cross-legged and crying without a thought in his brain-dead body ever since.
It was too much.
Part of him was inwardly chastising his behavior, insisting that he was acting like a child and he ought to grow up. What did he think this was going to be like, it asked him, a peaceful transition? Had he really thought that no one would have to make profound and painful sacrifices? How the hell had he expected the resistance to fight, and win, against a group violent lunatics? Until now, everything Red and Purple had recounted, all the pain they had endured… it had all been so abstract. He knew, intellectually, what had happened and what it must have felt like but the reality of it never quite hit him. He knew that what he was feeling now couldn't begin to touch what they'd survived, but it did spark a terrible, overwhelming sickness. For the first time, he really saw what he was up against; the sheer magnitude of just a fraction of their capabilities was so far beyond terrifying, that no species had yet established a word capable of articulating it.
He thought of Tenn, still unconscious in the medical bay. He swore he could feel the blood on his hands from tending to her wound. He thought he might be sick for a moment when he remembered the sensation of it soaking through his pants at the knee. Her face, contorted in pain and agony as the lasers seared her wound shut from the inside out. The frantic screaming and sobbing she'd finally succumbed to once she was unable to suppress it any longer echoed in his head and it had only taken one of them to do all that. He'd never seen that kind of pain before. He had done a decent job keeping all that out of his thoughts until now. Everything hit him all at once and from out of nowhere and he couldn't even begin to fathom how to react.
Part of him wanted to be alone and part of him was desperate for comfort. The part of him that mourned the loss of his home cried out for familiarity, and another part wanted to drown it out entirely. To forget that he was responsible for destroying his world and that he'd made the decision that resulted in the deaths of nearly a thousand people (since they'd last reported). All those people… all that life, gone in a single instant. He thought of Tenn and he hoped that none of those that had perished when Vort exploded had suffered.
He thought back to his time working on Vort all those years ago, before it had been conquered and "updated". He'd engineered a ton of things for the Irken Empire… fuck, he'd engineered the Massive. Owaiin was responsible for it's design but he'd been the one to make it work. How many people had been killed by the weapons he'd made? He wasn't the one who pulled the trigger but he'd put in the hands of those who did. Ignoring the voice in the back of his mind that advised against it, Lard Nar found the footlocker stashed under his bed and pulled out a bottle of something he didn't waste time reading the label of (all he cared about was the alcohol percentage)… he didn't fucking care what it was, so long as it would be enough to get him good and drunk.
Spleenk paced the length of his quarters nervously. He wanted to check on Lard Nar to see how the Vortian was handling things, but he knew that the situation was delicate, at best. He could not predict how the Captain would react to his presence, and the last thing Spleenk wanted to do was to agitate him further. He could not imagine what the Vortian was feeling; and that was the thought that worried him the most.
Spleenk was familiar with grief. It tore you apart until you were too weak to fight anymore, swallowed you whole, and left you to fend for yourself in a deep, dark place. It was a suffering so great that in order to cope, one had to numb themselves entirely to the rest of the outside world. It was a frightening, isolating feeling that fed off you like a parasite until there was nothing left of the person you once were. Spleenk had become well acquainted with that notion in the past, and had since resolved to use it to help others. Experience had also taught him that such a revelation was not something that could be forced on someone. They had to want it. Otherwise, words were nothing more than sounds.
He worried for Red and Purple, too. They had each other, though, and that did provide some reassurance. Universe knew they didn't need any more tragedy in their lives. Still, he couldn't shake the acute feeling that tragedy was far from over.
It's one thing to understand something as a concept or a fact. It's quite another to grasp it and the extent of what it implies. He had been able to understand what these… whoever they were, were capable of. He had not been able to understand how directly those facts affected each and every one of them.
If their influence had spread to Vort (and there was no denying that it had), there was no way to tell how many other worlds they had gotten to – inside and outside of the Empire. Anything was possible, and that was fucking scary.
They hadn't just influenced Vort… they'd been instrumental to its reconstruction. The cities were leveled and everything had been demolished to build the enormous prison facilities responsible for ensuring their armaments. Spleenk was by no means a strategist, or a remotely linear thinker (he'd always likened his thought process to a game of connect-the-dots), but even he understood the logic behind their process.
His foremother had told him a long time ago that there was only one thing true of all art. He didn't understand what she meant until later in his life, and even then, he wasn't quite sure why it was so significant. Only now, in light of recent events, was he able to make sense of it.
"Form follows function, but correlation does not imply causation. Remember that, Spleenk."
Every piece of art was created for a reason, even if it was created only so the artist could deny it meant anything. Spleenk knew these people were intelligent. He also knew that only an idiot would program a fusion reactor to self-destruct, and only the heir to the throne of the kingdom of idiots would program a fusion reactor to self-destruct after sealing the exits with blast doors. If you had a breach in security, the most logical solution would be to seal the exits, not set off a chain explosion of very deliberately placed fusion reactors. Location had just as much to do with their intentions as the design itself. The prisons had been built that way for a reason, but it had nothing to do with security. Then again, maybe in their sick-minded way, it did. Those things had been made to explode.
Form follows function. A means to an end.
All the resistance had done was set it off early, through no fault of their own. He took no pride in saying so, but Spleenk could not help thinking that maybe this was the best way it could have gone. For whatever reason, those bastards had planned from the start to destroy Vort, and somehow, Spleenk didn't get the feeling that they would have had the courtesy of transferring the prisoners or the staff before they did.
The prisons were built to be death traps.
He thought that maybe these revelations would help Lard Nar to accept that what had happened wasn't his fault. He wasn't so sure he'd be able to find the right words, and he didn't want to take any risks with how fragile things were right now. He wanted more than anything to be there; Spleenk found himself sick with worry and the only thing that kept him from panicking was the thought of the Vortian. He needed to keep himself together, because eventually, Lard Nar was going to need someone to talk to, and Spleenk needed to be there, as a friend, if nothing else.
He hated moments like this. When everything around him seemed to spin farther and farther out of his control, leaving him helpless and confused. Judging from the way he'd reacted earlier, Spleenk resolved to give the Vortian some time to sort things out on his own before he'd check in.
Lard Nar was two-thirds of the way finished with his bottle of something he could no longer read, as the letters were blurring together when he completely failed to hear someone knocking outside his bunk. The sound of his door clicking shut was finally what startled the Captain, causing him to drop the bottle of liquor, immediately bringing his train of thoughts to a screeching halt.
"I didn't mean to disturb you… you didn't answer when I knocked, and I just wanted to make sure you were all right."
Lard Nar shook his head in disapproval, trying to salvage what alcohol still remained in the bottle, "Please, just go."
"…You don't have to do this alone."
The Captain laughed bitterly, "That's fucking hysterical, coming from you."
"I'm not proud of what I did, okay? I never wanted to hurt you, and I was a selfish prick because I didn't think about your feelings. I fucked everything up. I fucked it up, and I'm sorry, okay?!"
"Well, I'm glad one of us has come to terms with the end of our relationship."
The other Vortian sighed in frustration, "What do you want from me? What do I have to do to at least get you to stop hating me?!"
"I don't want you to do anything. I want you to leave me the fuck alone. I thought we were pretty clear on the don't leave the cargo bay thing."
Owaiin took a good look at the Captain and spoke in a pleading voice, "Shit, 'Nar, please tell me that's not what I think it is."
"That depends. What do you think it is?"
Fuck. He'd known it from the second he walked in. The room reeked of booze, and Owaiin had still given the other Vortain the benefit of the doubt. He didn't want to admit that he recognized way the Captain held himself, and tried to attribute it to grief and confusion. He could not deny the liquid proof in the other's hands, and regardless of what Lard Nar thought, the realization did hurt.
"You're drunk." He said, as if stating a fact.
Lard Nar screwed his features in confusion, "I don't know… it's been such a long time, I can't remember what 'drunk' feels like? If anyone on this ship can answer that, it'd be you, you worthless, good-for-nothing, piece of shit!" He said with a grin, bordering on manic hysteria, on his feet and in Owaiin's face. "Do you know what it was like for me after you left? One cycle, you're asking me how I feel about marriage and the next, you're gone! I came home, all your shit was already out of the fucking apartment, and there you were, sitting at the fucking kitchen table, and all you said was that you were leaving. I gave you sixteen years of my life and you threw it away in sixteen seconds! I gave up everything for you and you left me with nothing!"
Owaiin didn't speak, or make eye contact. Instead, he just stared painfully at the floor.
"You'll have to forgive me for not being able to forgive you, but you fucked me pretty hard – and not, as Red would say, in a positive, life-affirming way."
"Is he that guy you're with now?"
Lard Nar gagged and hacked a few times, trying to keep the nausea at bay. "Fuck no!" He shuddered, "Just the thought of that is enough to make me vomit."
Owaiin shrugged, not really caring. "When did you start drinking again?"
Lard Nar looked pensive, "Well, after you left I spent a few years cashing my paychecks at the liquor store… somewhere along the line I drank myself into a two-week coma. That was pretty good motivation to get sober. Then," he sighed, "I completely destroyed my home and nearly lost a teammate and an entire crew. I think," he hiccupped, "these are special circumstances."
Owaiin looked at him seriously, "You know that's not true."
"Vort, Owaiin, I'm not a fucking addict. I never was."
"So drinking yourself into a fucking coma isn't a sign of dependence?!"
"I needed something to make me forget you!" He shouted, "Every fucking day I woke up, expecting you to be asleep next to me. I'd reach out to hold you, and I'd remember that you were gone. I don't know how many times in a day I'd come across something that reminded me of you, and I'd think to myself 'Owaiin would really enjoy this' or 'that would really make him laugh' and it killed me every time because it reminded me that you'd left. I was alone. How the fuck was I supposed to cope?!" He'd never intended to say these things out loud to anyone, particularly Owaiin, but he didn't seem to have control over the words leaving his mouth. "I can't fucking handle this. Not on top of what's happened today. I can't do this." He said with desperate, helpless tears in his eyes.
Owaiin looked at the other Vortian with concern in his eyes, "'Nar… you know how you get when you drink. I'm not going to leave you alone in this condition."
"Why not? That's what you do, isn't it?"
"Oh, come off it, already!" Owaiin replied with an edge to his voice, "I left you. I broke your heart. Normal people get over that."
"Fuck you! I… you…" the Captain wobbled, tripping over himself and toward the other, who managed to steady him before his face made fast acquaintances with the floor. "Fuck you." He replied weakly, unable to look up, having gone completely limp in the other's arms. "I'm such a mess, Owaiin."
"That's the liquor talking." He replied gently, "You're doing the best you can. Everybody slips up once in a while."
Lard Nar just cried silently. That small bit of rationality tucked away in the back of his mind was screaming at him, as loud as it could, but the alcohol was making it harder and harder to hear. You know what's going to happen if you don't force him to leave, and you don't want that. Think of Spleenk. You could go talk to him; he wants to help you. You could even go to Red and Purple. Talk to anyone else, talk to the fucking soda machine if you have to, but please get away from him. He knew it, and yet, the overpowering sensation of the familiar was all too enticing. He just wanted to forget.
When Owaiin kissed him, Lard Nar felt a rising sickness stir in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't nausea induced by the alcohol, but rather, it was something physiological. You're not going to stop him. It was never even a question in the back of his mind. The voice of reason had simply resigned itself to the inevitable, without a fight.
"Well, he'll be here in a minute or two." Zim said idly.
"Great." Dib exhaled a puff of air, rocking back on his heels and swinging his arms. "…Still haven't got a plan?"
"Look, Pesky, Cheese-Headed Filth-Beast, Skooge isn't going to just jump on the, as you humans call it, bandwagon. He's a loyal Irken and I've got a feeling he's not all that fond of Red and Purple."
"…Yeah, they don't seem like they were too easy to get along with for a while, there."
There was a lull between them that was broken by the 'swoosh' sound of the automatic metal doors opening and closing behind the stout Invader, whose eyes bulged at the sight of the Irken who had supposedly self-destructed. He also made a mental note of the human in the room, but that was not at the forefront of his concerns.
"…Z – Zim?!" He squeaked in a disbelieving, shocked voice.
"…Ehhh…hiya, Skooge!" He waved lamely.
Dib sighed and shook his head with a hand over his face in response.
"You're alive?! B- but – I… you, he… how?!"
"Yeeeah, um, that's a bit of a story, actually. I think there's,"
Invader Skooge's eyes rolled back in his head as they fluttered shut and he wobbled on his feet before his knees gave out and he promptly fainted.
"Well… that was easier than I expected." Zim stated.
The human looked at the conscious Irken incredulously, "That was your plan? Shock him into unconsciousness?"
"Do you know a better way to get someone's attention?"
Dib opened his mouth, then thought for a moment. Under the circumstances, there really weren't many options. If Skooge would just as quickly resort to violence as Zim used to, maybe the alien had a point. "… Sometimes, I liked you better when you were an idiot."
"I AM ZIM!" He shouted in mock victory, "Now hurry up and cuff him to that pole over there so I can get his weapons off him before he wakes up. They ought to hold out against the spider-legs long enough."
"Okay, I'm," Dib froze, mid-sentence, "Wait. They 'ought to'?"
"Yeeeah, well, I haven't exactly had time to test them out. But Skooge has always been reasonable. And he's been a friend in the past, so I think he'll at least hear me out."
Dib shook his head with a sigh, "If we survive this, it'll be a miracle."
"Well, there goes my faith in the Almighty." The Computer muttered.
"That's never going to happen again." Lard Nar said numbly, staring at the wall opposite him and away from what he was trying not to think about.
"…Okay… I don't really understand why, but if that's what you want, it won't happen again."
"It should never have happened at all."
"Wh,"
"Leave."
"What?"
"Go, leave, get out, relocate, pick whatever fucking synonym you want. I don't want you near me."
Owaiin made a disgusted face and quickly dressed. "Whatever, 'Nar. You've always been too much of a headcase for me, anyway."
"If you tell anyone about this, I swear on everything I've got left, I'll hunt you down and make sure you live a long, painful life."
"Don't worry. You're nothing to brag about."
The Captain tried to pretend the comment didn't hurt him as much as it did.
"… That was low, I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated."
"Be frustrated somewhere else." Lard Nar insisted, desperately trying to keep himself together. Once the door shut and locked behind Owaiin, he tore the sheets from his bed and vowed to incinerate them after he showered. Try as he might, there was no removing the vile sickness that had sunken into his skin. No matter how hard he scrubbed, it would not wash away. You knew this would happen, his conscience sighed, and you did it anyway. You always end up here. You had every chance to shove him out the door and you were too fucking weak to do it. You did what you always do and you caved in under pressure. You didn't even enjoy it. Look at yourself. All those years it took you to get back on your feet… you just went and wasted them.
He slumped to the floor and drew his knees tight to his chest, sobbing with a desperation he hadn't known before.
Purple held Red close and just watched him as he slept. It was rare moment of peaceful rest during which he was not plagued by nightmares or memories, and it made Purple grateful to see that his partner's mind was quiet. He looked remarkably youthful; his hardened, sorrowful eyes and sharp features seemed so much softer now than he'd seen them in a long time. He'd almost forgotten that soft, cautious innocence and childlike sense of adventure and wonder that had enchanted him so since they first met. Back then, there wasn't a thing Red couldn't do – or that was, at least, what he managed to make everyone believe. The innate charisma he possessed had Purple wrapped around his finger from the very start (though neither of them knew it). He had a presence about him that made everyone look at him with reverence and respect… and Purple had never understood why someone as appealing as Red had chosen someone as common as Purple saw himself.
The only thing that had ever been special about him was Red. Red was the reason that people had ever bothered to look his way. He'd been very quiet and withdrawn until he met the other Irken, and he supposed that by interacting with him so much, he had managed to develop effective social skills. Purple supposed it did help that he was extraordinarily capable in combat.
Whatever it was, it didn't really matter. Here and now, he was simply grateful for the look on Red's face. It had been so many years since he'd seen it that Purple was slightly disturbed to realize he'd forgotten what it looked like. It was hard to believe that the man in his arms was the same person that had been capable of the things he'd seen. Purple posed to himself the question of whether or not Red ever looked at him and saw similar things. He hoped not.
His thoughts turned to the Scarlet Junction again. He desperately wished them to settle on anything but that, and he assumed that his instinctual aversion was the best reason to face them. They had really felt an honest sense of accomplishment, as if punishment for bearing witness to their sins had somehow been rendered. Purple could never explain how it felt, to stare out into that endless, sparkling eternity while it stared back into the endless, dark void of his soul. That kind of vulnerability was not something he could afford. He and Red had stood on observation deck and laughed together while the 32 planets before them smoldered and burned into nothing.
He remembered the way his blood ran cold when the disturbingly polite series of knocks sounded at their bedroom door later that day. He and Red had exchanged a terrified glance and tried to camouflage their horror. The two of them were nothing short of shocked when the cloaked group of Irkens, for the first time, did not greet them with force.
"Come with us."
They just looked to each other, confused and somewhat lightheaded; as if they'd fallen into a dream world. They were lead through a series of hallways and down an elevator that neither Red nor Purple could ever hope to remember the exact location of, and finally into the chamber filled with the ghosts of unpleasant memories past and those of so many yet to be.
They were not bound or restrained and no one had harmed them in any way. Neither of them had a very good feeling about the circumstances. There was a certain familiarity in pain, and without it, they were at a loss for what exactly they ought to feel. It really hadn't occurred to Purple until now how much that statement said about how wrong things truly were.
They never saw his face, not ever; the one who Red and Purple had both in their minds designated as the leader, just that unnerving, knowing, shit-eating grin. "Oh, come now, let's do away with these formalities." Said the familiar voice in a congenial tone. He was sitting comfortably in a very ornate, old-fashioned, but comfortable-looking chair. He glanced around him and snapped his fingers. Immediately, two chairs were set in front of the pair of very confused Irkens. "I apologize for that," he said, followed by a melodramatic sigh, "good help is hard to come by these days. Please, sit. Make yourselves comfortable."
Purple's head was spinning.
"We'd rather stand," Red replied with his arms crossed, eyeing the chair suspiciously, "if it's all the same to you."
"Very well, I simply wanted to extend the courtesy. You've done nothing wrong; neither of you were brought here to be punished." He explained.
"Then why were we brought here?" Red asked.
"I know we haven't always seen eye to eye on… certain things. I know we haven't had the most pleasant of interactions in the past."
"Gee, what makes you think that?! Was it the burning me with acid or giving him electric fucking shocks that clued you in?!" The crimson-eyed Tallest shouted angrily.
"Please, Red, don't do this…." Purple begged quietly.
"You should listen to your Co-Tallest more often, Red. Seeing as you've both earned a place in my favor today, I'll let that little quip of yours slide."
There were no words that could properly articulate the level of confusion both Irkens shared.
"I simply invited you both down here because I wished to congratulate you."
Red and Purple exchanged a hopeless, desperately confounded expression.
"What you boys did today, with the Scarlet Junction… that was a job well done." He smiled. A real, honest smile.
It scared the shit out of them both.
"You've both been doing some fine work with your orders as of late, and you even managed to destroy the Scarlet Junction on your own. It's nice to see you both taking such initiative. Good work should not go unacknowledged, you know."
The Tallest just stood there, slack-jawed and unable to move.
"I never thought I'd be able to say it, considering how reluctant you both were at first, but I have to say, I'm proud of you."
And that had been when Purple's downward spiral finally came to a painful, head-on crash.
Allusions and Refrences
There are way too many refrences to "Backseat Drivers From Beyond the Stars" here.
Zim's military research career, his comment regarding the Massive about how it'd never fly, and Tallest Miyuki is a reference to the episode-that-never-was, "The Trial"
Sizz-Lorr is from the episode, "The Frycook What Came From All That Space"
The time-stasis field Dib mentions is from the episode, "Walk for Your Lives"
The Scarlet Junction is a reference to Doctor Who.
The term "Great Maker" is taken from Babylon 5.
The "Overseer" is a very subtle and vague nod to the game Fallout 3.
"Only an idiot would... only the heir to the throne of the kingdom of idiots would..." is from Babylon 5
The only true wisdom consists in knowing that you know noting is the musing of Socrates (or Bill and Ted.)
The vampire who "dazzles" in sunlight is a lighthearted jab at the Twilight series. I don't mean to judge anybody's tastes; Universe knows, I've got tastes of my own that even I can't make sense of. I'm a veteran fan of Buffy and Angel (particularly the last few seasons of Angel, when it started to get brilliant, just before the axe fell on it), and, well... dazzling? Come on, at least find a better word than dazzle. My theory has always been, "if you don't like it, don't read/watch/do it", so I'm not vehemently opposed to Twilight, or anything. It's meant to be satirical, not mean.
The philosopher Purple quotes about he who fights with monsters is Fredrich Nietzsche. I reference him quite a bit.
Red's line about if sex weren't so much fun, breeding would've died out a long time ago is from the House, M.D. episode, "Sex Kills"
The bit where the Computer responds to Dib, "there goes my faith in the Almighty" is another one from Babylon 5.
Notes
This chapter was pretty heavy, and I didn't want to weigh it down any more by dragging it out. I had intended to include another reveal about the villains, but I ended up deciding that it was better to resolve the character dilemmas first, to keep the plot from getting too messy. There are some major threads in this chapter that will become absolutely crucial later on. I also find myself debating the inclusion of the more explicit scenes. I try to keep them as tasteful as I can, and honestly use them for a reason; here, in particular, I wanted to present the stark contrast of Red and Purple's dynamic with the one between Lard Nar and Owaiin. I hope I'm not going overboard with it.
Lard Nar really bore the brunt of the trauma in this one. I didn't shove him into these circumstances because I'm a sick freak; as a character, he needed to break. If he's going to be the Captain of a resistance that wants to have any real chance of surviving against our black-hooded friends, he needs to make executive decisions. He needs to learn to stay calm and how to assert himself, and as a character, he needs a motivation to do that. Owaiin's a bit of an opportunistic bastard. Rest assured, Lard Nar will eventually heal, and be better for it.
I promise, the pace really starts to pick up next chapter. I don't know when I'll be able to get it finished, but I'm going to try my damnedest to get it up before Otakon. Somewhere between 8-hour studio days, job applications and interviews, and finding time to make two costumes (well, atleast one. I really need to invest in a dress form. If I had a job, that wouldn't be so difficult. I hate being poor), I'm going to get this done.)
Purple's fighting style is how a friend of mine fights, for the most part.
The conversation about crying over important things is actually a real-life conversation I had with a friend.
Please review, if you've got a second to spare. I really like to know how I'm doing, and what you all think.
